Winter

I stand quietly at
the end of the street
watching snowflakes fall
softly and touch the ground
like ballet dancers who
leap across the stage,
and land without a sound.

The ground crunches
with each step
I take.
Closer and closer
to the white mass
that stands un-moving
before me.

My breath leaves a trail
of white mist.
Puff puff puff.
Almost as if I am
a train creeping slowly
to reach my destination.

Coming to a stop
in front of this pure
obstruction,
I close my eyes
and breathe in the crisp
air and bask in the silence.
My hand reaches out
and touches ever-so-lightly
on the top of
a great, white snowman.